


The Other Side of You

by holeybubushka



Series: The Prank Was Foiled AU [3]
Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Always, Doggy Style, F/M, Face-Fucking, Gen, Guilt, Kinks, Public Blow Jobs, So much guilt, Spanking, Thank God for Sam, The Prank Was Foiled AU, hence why Chris looks older than his years, lots of kinks, pretending you are vanilla when you are kinky as they come, set in, that'll age you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 09:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16083695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holeybubushka/pseuds/holeybubushka
Summary: Chris just wants to be a gentleman. And if that means sublimating his own desires for Ashley's sake, then so be it.ORChris is kinky. He tries to hide it. It goes as well as you'd expect.





	The Other Side of You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FixOrRideDaily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FixOrRideDaily/gifts).



> This is for my bro, FixOrRideDaily. We decided to do a swap featuring our OTPs. He has already posted his side of the bargain, a Sath story called 'Ladies Room' which y'all need to go read, like, RIGHT NOW. Here is my story. You'll be pleased to know I blushed numerous times while writing this, and I don't embarrass that easily. I hope, you most of all, enjoy this story.
> 
> Also if kinky sex is not your jam this story is not for you ;)
> 
> And finally, this bad boy is not edited, so all mistakes are my own.

  
“Boom, you are done, doneski!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Yeah yeah?” Chris sticks his finger in Josh’s face. “You see that move? I was playing Luigi and I still dominated your ass.”

“You are taking a not-normal amount of pleasure in this.”

“Mwahahah. Yield, peasant. Bow down in the presence of Lord Christopher,  master of the Mario Kart domain.”

“My point exactly,” Josh says drolly, taking a swig of his drink and ignoring Chris. They’re both sprawled on the floor of Josh’s room, down in the bowels of the Washington mansion, craning their necks up at the flat screen . It says something about the Washington’s profligacy that they can let Josh horde a TV this massive in what is, essentially, a glorified basement.

It’s the middle of the day, although you wouldn’t know it, since the only light is coming from dappled mesh of colors on the screen. That’s okay though. Chris looks better in the gloom anyway.  

As much as Chris hates to admit it, among their friends Josh is the undisputed king of video games. For once though, he looks completely indifferent at losing a second race in a row. “You’ll have to excuse me, Lord Assward. My fingers are a little stiff.”

He smirks. Chris rolls his eyes. Here comes the gloating.

“And why may that be, oh lewd one?”

“Why, I was in the presence Jessica last night, the prettiest little princess in the land.” His leer deepens. “And she was glowing all _pink_ for me.”

“Oh.” Chris shifts, a little awkward. Jess again. Josh’s dalliances never last long, but he’s been off-and-on with Jess for almost six months. He’s not sure what the hell they’d have in common other than sex, and if that’s all, then he’s surprised Josh isn’t bored already. Jess is a princess too, demanding and borderline obnoxious, and what’s between her legs can’t be _that_ special to keep coming back for more. In return, he's not sure how Jess endures Josh being such a lecherous man-child all the damn time. Then again, he thinks, glancing over at his friend.He’s still amazed someone as sleazy as Josh can coax so many people into his bed.

“Yeah, bro. I made her cum three times last night. And I was up for more, but her poor little body couldn’t handle it.” He grins to himself. “At one point I thought my was jaw was going to fall right off. Death by pussy. Although I suppose there are worse ways to go.”

“The eulogy would be fun.” Chris’ mimics Jess’ high voice. “‘ _He died doing what he loved.’”_

“Right on! You know what else I love? Getting to cum all over a girl’s tits.”

“Bro!”

“What? Jess was kind enough to oblige last night. She doesn’t like anyone cumming on her face, which I don’t get, personally, I love it when guys do it to me, but each to their own.” Josh’s grin is sharp. “It was such a sight, man, I’ll never forget it. She’s got the best rack I’ve ever seen, beautiful and perky with the cutest little nipples, and like, her skin gleams with my jizz on it…”

Chris takes a huge gulp of his drink, hoping Josh doesn’t catch his distaste. The visual makes his stomach turn. Jess is pretty, he supposes, in a traditional, swimsuit model kind of way. But that doesn’t exactly do it for him, though. Not at all.

If he wanted to think of his cum gleaming on someone’s skin, he’d think of -

“Is that why you suck today?” Chris blurts out, indicating towards the _Wii_. “You saving your strength for tonight? Round two?”

“Nah. I’m stag tonight. Jess is going away with Emily, some kind of girly weekend or something. She said she’s coming over for another helping on Tuesday, though.” He sighs, and if Chris didn’t know better, he’d swear Josh sounds a little bit smitten.  “She’s insatiable.”

“Good for you.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. I have to survive this weekend first. Sam and Matt are staying over the whole time. I’m not sure whether to stand guard outside my sister’s rooms or drink myself into oblivion.”

They share a look. Sam and Beth are part of the group’s furniture,  but Matt and Hannah are still relatively new. It’s sweet, and after the debacle at Blackwood Mountain a while back it fills Chris with joy to see Hannah so happy. It’s just...awkward. It’s hard for Chris to reconcile Josh’s kid sister with woman whose desperate, wanton moans reverberate through the whole damn house.

“Hey, I have an idea! Why don’t you come over? We’ll have fun, Cochise. A sleepover! We’ll order pizza”

“Sorry,” Chris tries not to feel too guilty when Josh’s face falls. “I’m seeing Ash tonight.”

“Ah. Well. Don’t let that stop you. You guys can come over after you’re done being all _romantic_. Like we used to. There’s room enough down here for three.”

“Uh.” It’s absurd to feel as if he’s committing an act of betrayal, except that his time with his girlfriend is finite.Every minute he can steal her away from her shitbag father is precious. “Sorry, man, but we can’t stay out late tonight. You know how Ashley’s dad gets. I gotta get her home before eleven. Don’t want the ole…” he indicates towards his crotch,  “family jewels to be in jeopardy.”

“Wouldn’t want that, not when, for once, you’re actually using them,” there’s a hard edge to Josh’s voice. “That’s okay, Cochise. Let’s kill two bird with one stone. You want some alone time with Ash? Why don’t you guys come over here. You can use my bed. I promise I won’t even turn the webcam on.”

“Josh,” Chris warns.

“What? I’d pay to see it.”

“Knock it off, man.”

“Why? Jesus. How about you liven thing up a bit, Mr. Darcy? Give Ash a bit of a thrill for _once._ Or can’t you bear to screw little widdle Ashley without looking ever-so lovingly into her eyes the whole time?”

“Don’t talk about her that way,” Chris bellows, staggering to his feet. He can barely hear his own voice over the roar in his ears. “Don’t you _ever_ talk about Ashley like that, you dick.”

“Dude,” Josh’s voice is small, shaky. “Chris.”

“Whatever,” Chris seethes. He looks wildly around the room. Where’s his damn coat?. It’s unseasonably cold, and he only has one jacket but he finds he can barely stand to be in wretched basement with this presumptuous asshole any longer.

“Chris?”

He glances over. His friend has got up from the floor, his face closing in on itself a little. Josh is usually self possessed, smooth on the cusp of smug. But he looks shaken, diminished, almost trembling in the face of Chris’ onslaught. Chris sighs. As quickly as it comes, his anger recedes. Truthfully, Chris has no right to get mad. Josh doesn’t know any better. Boundaries don’t exist for him, they never have, from practically the moment they met in the third grade. Expecting him to change now would almost be cruel.

And Chris doesn’t want to be cruel.

“Hey,” Chris sighs. “It’s fine.”

“Dude,” Josh still looks shaken. “I didn’t mean any disrespect, I was just joking around…”

“I know,” Chris says, placing his hands on Josh’s  shoulders and squeezing.“It’s fine. Really. Just you know: how about a bit less with the dirty talk about Ashley when I’m around?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Josh looks like he wants to object, but for once decides to keep his mouth shut. “You off now? Lemme guess, you need to pick out your outfit?”

Chris colors. “Hey!  Sue me: It takes preparation to look this good.”

“Uh huh,” Josh rolls his eyes, good cheer restored. Can't keep a Washington down for long. “Just wear the grey sweater. It brings out your eyes. And tell Ash I say hello.”

“I will.”

Chris releases a breath as soon as he’s out of Josh’s basement. He’s shaking, his body weak as if a fever burnt straight through. He overreacted. Suspiciously and completely overreacted. Chris sighs, rubbing the back of his neck and turning his face to the sky. That was too close. He’s become so accustomed to hiding. From Josh. From his friends. And from Ashley, most of all. They’d recoil if they knew. If they had any inkling of the darkness that skulks at the corner of his heart.

God. Chris starts to head towards his truck.  Even Josh has no idea. Josh, who is so crude he’d put a swarthy sailor to shame. No one, _no one,_ would believe him if he said that Joshua-freaking-Washington is a _puritan_ compared to Chris.

A laugh. Chris glances up. He’s tall enough to peer over the sidegate towards the driveway where he spots the twins getting out of Hannah’s car. They’re laughing, jostling each other playfully as they make their way towards the house,  looking as sweet and innocent as the day he met them. It reminds Chris of a simpler time. A better time.

He wasn’t corrupted back then.

Hannah has sped up, no doubt eager to start her weekend with Matt. Beth trails a step or two behind, weighed down by an arm full of books. She must feel his gaze because she turns and looks to him. She brightens, smiling and jerking her head as if to say, ‘come here.’ Chris feels his heart leap into his throat. He sends Beth a tight smile, before leaning against the gate as if he’s waiting for someone, looking down at his phone, disinterested. He can’t risk Beth seeing the panic in his eyes, afraid, absurdly, that his face will betray him.

His heart is slamming against his chest, but thankfully, it works. He hears the twins voices receding as the door shuts and he’s left alone. All alone with nothing but his goddamn, fucked up thoughts to keep him company.

Because here’s the awful truth that even Josh doesn’t know.

He’s not Mr Darcy.

He’s Marquis de Sade instead.

 

+++

Chris looks at the clothes strewn across his bed.

“Dammit.”

How does he have so many clothes and how are all so terrible? The red shirt for instance. It looked great on the rack but when he puts it his pasty complexion makes him look like a giant, plump pimple. The mustard colored sweater, meanwhile, makes him look washed out, and he looks like the Michelin Man whenever he wears white.

He sighs and slumps down onto his bed in defeat. Fuck. It’s not the clothes that are bothering him, not really.  He hasn’t been able to relax since coming home, his conversation with Josh still rattling around his skull.

He feels like a fraud, a cheat, lying to his best friend. Lying to Ashley. But what other choice does he have? He can’t go around telling anyone that all he dreams about is Ashley, eyes wide, on her knees, pleading, begging, to be used.

Like a slut.

Like a whore.

His whore.

Chris sighs, running a hand through his hair. That’s the worst thing. Wanting to do...rough, nasty things to _Ashley_ , of all people. Inquisitive, sweet, mischievous, Ashley. He’s spend years pining over her, pouring over every conversation, hoping against hope a knock-out like her would fall for a schmuck like him.  He’d do anything for her; Walk across hot coals, put a gun to his head, face down her madman father, _anything_.

So why is that all he wants to do is fuck her up? Push her down onto the bed, restrain her, ravish her, pound her till she’s raw? Shove his cock down her throat until she’s choking and mewling around him?  

How can he love her and still want that?

Despite Mike’s playful jibes, when it comes to sex Chris isn’t a complete newb. He knows some people are into...kinky shit. Josh, for instance, enjoys the rougher side of sex, but in all their conversations he’s never once brought up anything as nasty, or degrading as the fantasies that lurk in Chris’ mind. And he knows, rationally, some people are into this. There are shops selling...things. Whips and crops and god knows what else. He just thought… normal people… people like him...weren’t into it.

He assumed anyone who liked this sort of thing were the victims of some type of early-life trauma. And it had caused their erotic imaging to warp, curl into something darker, harder. But how could he explain himself? His childhood was almost painfully dull. He didn’t even suffer from Bob and Melinda Washington’s benign neglect. The worst thing that ever happened to him was when he ran over a squirrel when he was sixteen. Except, no. He’s not even an animal lover. Squirrels are basically rats anyway, and he was more concerned about the damage _it_ did to _his_ car. So he can hardly point to that as the reason he is the way he is.

He wishes there _was_ a reason. Because maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to figure out a way to make it go away.

Chris groans. He has to get out of this funk, for Ashley’s sake more than anything. They have a limited time together, and Chris doesn’t want to waste a second feeling sorry for himself.

Ashley deserves better than that.

His phone dings. He glances over and sees a message on the screen.

 

**From Ashley:**

**hola me gustaría algunos tacos**

 

**From Chris:**

**Say what now?**

 

**From Ashley:**

**I’m practicing my Spanish. That’s the phrase for: hello, I would like some tacos**

 

**From Chris:**

**AHA. Is this your subtle way of asking that we go to Mexican tonight?**

 

**From Ashley:**

**Oh no! However did you guess, Sherlock? Si, me encantan los tacos.**

 

**From Chris:**

**You’re subtle, Ash. With a capital B.**

 

**From Ashley:**

**Awwwwww. Ever the wordsmith, you are XD**

 

**From Chris:**

**Danke.**

 

**From Ashley:**

**Chris, that’s German, not Spanish.**

 

**From Chris:**

**I know! I took German for class, okay? What’s the point of another language when the whole world speaks English? And, may I point out, computers already translate everything for us anyway**

 

**From Ashley:**

**You are lucky ignorant dork looks good on you, Chris ;)**

 

**From Chris:**

**Thank you. It’s my color.**

 

**From Ashley:**

**DORK!!! Xxx**

 

**From Ashley:**

**I can’t wait to see you tonight.**

 

**From Chris:**

**Me neither. I miss you**

 

**From Ashley:**

**I miss you too! So much. I wish I was over there with you right now instead stuck in my room waiting for dad to leave.**

 

**From Chris:**

**:( Well, we’ll see each other soon enough, and on that note I better go have a shower. I spent the afternoon with Josh. I doubt you want me smelling like dank weed tonight.**

 

**From Ashley:**

**Ew. Definitely not**

 

**From Ashley:**

**You’re going for a shower, huh? Hmmm**

 

**From Ashley:**

**Now I definitely wish I was there ;)**

 

Chris freezes, heart thudding against his rib cage. The thought of Ashley, here with him, smiling shyly, coquettishly, bidding him oh-so-sweetly to join him in the shower is… distracting. He tries to swallow, but his throat is dry. He wonders if Ashley feels the same way. If she’s standing there, in the middle of her room, staring down at her phone, squirming with need, with excitement.  

 

**From Chris:**

**I should go get ready. See you tonight, Ash**

 

**From Ash:**

**See you tonight, Chris xx**

 

Chris thinks he detects a hint disappointment in Ashley’s text, but then, perhaps he’s just projecting? He sighs, feeling a bit hollow, a bit low. He throws his phone onto the bed, watching as it lands with a dull thud on the bed. All of a sudden his sweater feels too tight, heavy and hot on his body. He pulls it off, pelting if across the room. When his fingers go to his belt, they’re shaking, clumsy and stiff as he undoes his fly. He almost staggers into the bathroom, and when he turns on the faucet the water scalds him.

Fuck. Relief. He turns the knob down a little, enjoying the hot water pelting his skin. Steam rises, coating his face, settling in on his back. He cracks his neck, his muscles feeling stretched, tight.  He needs to get this tension out before he sees Ashley.

Ashley…

He wishes she were here, now, in the shower with him. Standing less than a foot away, sweet and supple, staring up at him with dewy, eager to please eyes. Her pale skin puckering pink every time the water smacked against it. Her nipples rising, just like the steam, small and pert and begging to be touched.

Fuck. He feels his dick twitch. Feels the heat travel down from his mind to his cock. He wraps his fist around himself, jerking, once, twice.

He closes his eyes, hand gliding over hardening skin.

Ashley…

“Chris,” Ashley whispers. Chris has to strain to hear her over the sound of the water. “Chris…”

She reaches up, strokes the hair on his chest. Chris feels a spark of annoyance, grabbing her wrist, squeezes.

“I didn’t say you could touch.”

Ashley whines, a high, pathetic sound. Chris’ breath hitches.

“You touch me when I say so. Got it?”

She nods. He grips her chin, jerking her head up to meet his eyes. She squirms, trying to fight him, trying to disobey, but she’s trapped.

Helpless.

“Answer me. Properly.”

“I don’t touch you,” she whimpers. “Until you say so.”

“Good girl,” he hisses. As a reward,  he takes her breasts in his hands. They’re so small. He likes to envelop them completely, using his whole palm to grope at her, roughly pinching, squeezing that supple warm flesh. He can feel her, pushing into his hands, yearning for contact. The water is loud but he can hear her moan as he roughly thumbs her nipples.

“Chris.”

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you.” He leers. “Let’s see how much. Spread your legs.”

Ashley shivers. She look ashamed and eager in equal measure, flushing pink, pink, pink under his glare as she spreads her legs wide open for him.

 _Fuck._ The water can’t hide her wetness, that warm slickness that covers the tips of his fingers.  She’s so hot, pulsing all around him. He strokes her a bit, sliding his fingers up and down her cunt but ignoring her clit, wanting to tease, working her until she’s desperate. Ashley sighs, squeezing her eyes shut, face flushed. She bucks up, eager to fuck herself on his fingers.

“Nu uh uh. You’re not getting fucked that easily.” His hand goes to her soft throat, squeezing, gently, but hard enough for her to get the message. “What do you want?”

“You,” she rasps, opening her eyes and locking her gaze onto his. “I want you.”

“You want me?” he hisses. He presses his fingers to her opening, pushing against, but not inside.

She whimpers, and he knows, just knows, she wants to disobey, wants to be a naughty girl.  “No. I want more. I want…more.”

“Tell me what you want, then. How do you want me to touch you? I can tell you want it.” He pulls his fingers away. Ashley whimpers, disappointed. He has plans for her though. He pushes his cock against her cunt, pleased when she makes a slutty moan as she grinds against it.

“I want you to fuck me,” she breathes into his ear. “Like a whore.”

“I can’t hear you. Like a what?”

“Like a whore,” she whines, nails scraping down his chest. “Like _your_ whore.”

 _Fuck._ He stubs his toe against the shower pane, breaking the fantasy. His stomach sinks a little. He’s all alone. All alone in the shower, with nothing but his own choked moans to keep him company.

 _Fuck._ He speeds up, jerking his cock furiously. He’s close. All he needs is a little push. All he needs is…

He’s fully clothed and in Ashley’s room. He’s only been in there a few times, but he’d recognise it anywhere. The place is silent, still except his own coarse breath.

And Ashley’s breathing, of course.

She’s naked, bent over her work desk, ass presented to him like a present. Her legs are splayed far apart, far enough that he can see her cunt, soft and glistening in the afternoon light.

“You know why you’re here,” Chris drawls cocking an eyebrow and strolling into the room. “You’ve naughty, haven’t you?”

“Yes. I’ve been bad.”

“You know what happens to bad girls?” He slaps her ass, hard. Then again, and again, and again, giving her no respite, no time to recover.

Ashley cries out, gripping the desk hard every time Chris's open palm connects with skin. They're making so much noise. He smack her again. It excites him to think that the neighbors are appalled by them, shaking their heads and muttering into their coffee cups at the whorish moans coming from his girlfriend’s mouth.

He smacks her again.

“Answer me.”

“Bad girls get punished. Bad girls get punished!”

“That’s right,” he stops, roughly massaging Ashley’s butt. He can see the imprint of his own hand, red and raw, on her alabaster ass cheeks. It takes every inch of his resolve not unzip himself and plunge inside her, but he can’t. She has to earn it first. “Why are you being punished?”

She twists her head and catches his eye. “Because I touched you without permission.”

“That’s right. Sluts like you don’t get to touch me unless _I_ want you to.” Her pussy is right in front of him, hanging slightly off the desk. He slides his fingers through her soft, slick folds. “Seems like you enjoyed your punishment, though. Maybe you’ve been… rewarded enough already.”

“NO!”

He slaps her ass again while thumbing clit, enjoying seeing her struggle with the blur of pleasure and pain.”No what?”

“No, please,” she begs. She wants so badly to writhe against his hand, but she doesn’t, like a good slut. “Please, I need it. I need you. I’ll be good. I’ll be good. Please.”

He eases his finger into her cunt, fucking her entrance shallowly. “What do you want? Huh? I know, but I want to hear it from _your_ mouth, slut.”

“I want you.”

He slides another finger inside her, stroking gently. “Want me like this?”

“No,” she whines. “Please. I want...more. I want, you to fuck me.”

“But I am,” he smirks, as he slowly begins to thrust. “But I am being good to you, kitten. I’m fucking you so good.”

“You are,” she moans, closing her eyes, the pair of them enjoying the moist squelch of her cunt stretching around his fingers. “But I want...I want…”

_“Tell me.”_

“I want you to fuck me with your cock, Daddy. Fuck me like your _whore._ ”

Fuck, yes. He’s unbuckled his pants almost before the words have left her mouth, lining his cock up sliding into her with one smooth thrust. She cries out, not expecting him to be so swift. Ashley’s poor cunt has to stretch to cope with his girth. Chris feels himself grin, wildly. She’s hot and tight around him and when his clothed pelvis nestles against her ass they both let out a shaky sigh. He takes a second to enjoy the exquisite feel of Ashley, his Ashley, pulsing sweet and tight all around his cock. He wants to savour it, savour her, but she’s been a good girl, finally. And good girls deserve to be fucked.

Chris pulls back until he’s almost out completely before he slams back into her. They cry out in unison as he grips her hips with his hand, liking the way she whimpers as he presses her down onto the desk.

He gets into a rhythm, fucking her with firm, hard thrusts. She’s never looked better to him, lying prone on the desk, her little body trapped as he fucks her from behind. Her thick ass, still red and raw from his earlier abuse, jiggles obscenely with every thick thrust.

“You like, huh? Am I fucking you like you wanted?”

“Yes daddy,” she moans, squeaking a little in pain as her hard nipples scrape across the desk.

“Look at you. Such a dirty little girl. Am I filling you up? Am I filling you up so good?”

“Yes!”

“Good,” he growls, glancing down and watching his cock disappear inside her, before reappearing, wetter than before. He reaches over the desk and grabs a handful of Ashley’s hair, pulling her up so chest and neck are bared to the other side of the room. She whimpers, her body tight as a bow. He feels something dark stir within him at the sight of her. How helpless she is. How Chris is solely and completely in charge of her pleasure. Chris growls, the thought of it spurring him on, fucking her hard, his free hand sinking into the pale skin of her hips. He pounds in as deep and as hard as he can, loving the way he can feel her cunt stretch wide open. “Yeah, fucking take it. You’re such a good whore. My good little whore.”

“Am I a good whore, daddy?” she cries, her voice hitching with every thrust.  Her words are almost drowned out by the thick slap of hips against bare skin. “Am I being a good whore?”

“You are, such a good little slut for me. Such a good slut, taking this dick so deep.”

He pulls her up even further, slowing his thrusts as he shoves his tongue in her mouth. She mewls into the kiss, whimpering and clenching around his cock. He growls, eager, desperate for more, letting her go and watching as she falls back down with a low grunt. His hands fly to her waist, pushing her onto to the desk, liking how she goes down without a fight. Ashley whines as she catches his eye again, biting her lip fiercely. Chris slams into her, wishing he could somehow shove his rock hard cock into her mouth instead. But this is good too. So good. Ashley must agree. Her face is flushed, dark red hair sticking to her forehead, her eyes glazed like she can't believe dick can feel this good. Chris is amazed at how placid she is being, lying on her stomach, ass bouncing, letting him fuck her from behind.

He wants to reward her.

She almost screams when his fingers brush her clit. She's so wet and he struggles to gain any purchase. He doesn't need finesse though. All he needs is to press his heel of his palm to her clit and let his heavy thrusts do the rest.

“Oh god, oh fuck.”

“Look at you. So fucking wet for me. What a wet and dirty little slut you are. ” His free hand roughly squeezes her still red ass as he pumps into her. “Are you going to come? Are you going to come all over my dick?”

“I'm close,” Ashley babbles, hands gripping the table for dear life. “I'm close. I’m close. I'm close,  Daddy. Keep fucking me, please.”

He grins, grinding his palm down on her clit, wanting to leave her on the precipice for as long as he can. “You want to come now, slut? You want to come all over this dick?”

“Yes, please, please let me come, I want to come so hard daddy-”

“Ah, _fuck_.”

Chris’ mind snaps back to reality as he orgasms, his jizz spilling hard and hot onto his stomach and chest. He finches, narrowly missing a spurt that was destined for his eye. He slumped against the shower frame, breathless. That was close. Although, he supposes, there might be some kind of karmic justice if he ended becoming blinded by his own cum.

He smirks, grabbing a cloth and scouring his skin, trying to rid himself of the sheen of filth clinging to his body.

He scrubs his whole body, rubbing and washing until he’s red and raw. But when he exits the shower he feels elated, euphoric, almost. He strides back to the bedroom and picks up the grey sweater that’s hidden under a mountain of clothes. Josh is right, it brings out his eyes and accentuates his broad shoulders. He puts the finishing touches to his hair, making it sure it sticks up at just the right angle. He looks...alright. If you squint, you might even say he looks almost handsome, like a Matthew McConaughey hand-me-down. More importantly though, he _feels_ good, light and free, as if someone’s leached a nasty poison from his veins.

It’s taken all afternoon, but finally he feels ready to be the boyfriend Ashley deserves.

 

+++

“Ooooh, ice cream! Chris, do you see?”

Chris grins, trailing a step or two in Ashley’s wake. They’d spent the night they like usually do, visiting a greasy dive bar with cheap drinks and even cheaper food. After his fourth bourbon Ashley had dragged him out to the makeshift dance floor, throwing her arms around him and swaying to the local jazz band’s languid beat. He’s not tipsy enough to feel comfortable dancing, though. He and Josh have been stealing Bob Washington’s whiskey since puberty, and in the interim he’s beaten his liver into submission. A few watered down bourbons barely make a dent, but he’ll take the mild discomfort of a dance floor any day if means he gets to hold Ashley in his arms.

Chris fidgets, eager to stretch the night out further. There’s outdoor cinemas less than a mile away that do screenings of a cult classic every second Friday of the month. Tonight’s movie is some art house film called ‘Secretary’, which sounds incredibly dull to him, but that’s not the point. There’s nothing better in the world than sharing a cup of buttery popcorn, watching a movie with Ashley Brown nuzzled, contentedly, into his side.

But. Time is an implacable foe. He glances at his watch. It’s twenty past ten already. They have time for one ice cream but that’s about it.

Ashley’s already at the counter when Chris arrives, surveying the huge array of flavors. Chris snorts. Who the hell would pay six dollars for one scoop of pomegranate and lychee ice cream? Why can’t people be happy with normal flavors, like chocolate or vanilla?

“Well hey there,” the server says to Ashley. “Got a flavor in mind?”

“I don’t know,” Ashley says. “We had Mexican tonight, so something refreshing? Maybe the cilantro lime one.”

“Ah, a woman after my own heart,” the guy says smoothly.  He smiles, tilting his head slightly so the light catches his sharp jaw. There’s something about him that reminds Chris of Mike, and before he can help it, Chris steps behind Ashley and places his hands possessively on her waist.

“You won’t be disappointed,” the guy says, noticing Chris and stepping back a little. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Thanks,” Ashley says, handing over some cash before elbowing Chris in the gut. “Come on, bottomless pit, what do you want? I’m paying.”

“Uh…”

“Lemme guess.  One scoop of chocolate ice cream?”

“Am I that predictable?”

“Yes.” Ashley laughs, before leaning up on her tiptoes and kissing his nose. “It’s cute. You’re like... Mr. Dependable, or something.”

He flushes. He’d prefer it if she went with _awesomely cool debonair gentleman_ , but he’ll take what he can get. She turns and pays, and Chris does his best not to scowl at the server, who is doing an abject job hiding his leer.

“Come on,” he says quietly, pulling Ashley toward his truck. “Let’s get out of here.”

 

+++

He drives her to their favorite spot, a grassy knoll overlooking a neat suburban park just around the corner from her house. The place is usually filled with parents and children, but tonight it’s deserted. He pulls out an old blanket from the back of his truck and lays it down on the ground. There’s dew on the grass, and the last thing he wants is for Ashley to be all wet and grubby when she goes home. Her father is not as stupid as he looks.

“This is so lovely,” Ashley sighs,   her head against his shoulder.

“It is,” he agrees, craning his head up. It’s a cold night, and he can see an ominous gathering of clouds overhead. Still, it’s peaceful. He never thought he’d be the type of guy who would sit and gawk at the sky, but Ashley’s good at expanding his horizons.  He takes a lick of his almost empty cup of ice cream, hating a little that every swipe of his tongue is bringing them closer to the premature end of their night. Ashley must feel the same. She sighs and burrows her face in his chest.

“I wish we could do this every night.”

“We can. Well, maybe not _now_ , now, but soon. When I graduate from Caltech we can do this as much as you like.”

“Yeah, but my dad will probably won’t let me. Half the time I still expect him to spring out from the bushes with a pair of binoculars.”

“I’d like to see him try,” Chris mutters. He squeezes her hand. “Anyway, Ash. When you graduate we’ll move out together.” His stomach drops. He’s being a little presumptuous. What if Ashley hasn’t thought that far ahead? “I mean, if you want. I get if maybe you want to live in like, a commune, or something. With your writing pals from college.”

“Ew! I would never want to live in a commune. What am I, a hippe? Anyway,” she smiles shyly, her green eyes glinting in the gloom. “And I’d love to move out with you someday, Chris.”

His heart swells. “You would?”

“Yes, dummy! There’s no one else I’d rather live with it.” She looks up at him. There’s an impish gleam in her eye. “Besides, if I lived with you, I could do this all the time.”

“What? Go outside and enjoy nature and all that...junk.”

“Sure. And _this_.”

He barely blinks before she smears the last drop of her ice cream on his nose. He yelps, surprised, batting her hand away.

“Hey! No fair.”

“Oh Chris, you’re so _messy._ ”

“Shut up!” He wipes his nose, bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking on them.  Surprisingly, the flavor is pleasant, crisp with just a hint of sweetness. It’s not as good as chocolate, but it’s delicious anyway.

When he looks back at Ashley, she’s staring at him, her expression inscrutable.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She glances down at his cup. “Have you finished yours? Your ice cream, I mean.”

“Uh, yeah? Why?”

“Oh, no reason. It just means I can do this.”

She straddles him, bringing their mouths together in a slow kiss. His yelp of surprise is muffled.

“Ashley,” he mumbles around her lips. “Wait.Ash.”

She ignores him, deepening the kiss. He raises his hand and cup her cheek. Her skin feels cool. He draws her closer, wanting to warm her up.

They stay like this for a while, kissing sweetly, Ashley’s little moans spiking his libido. Eventually, it becomes too much. Chris grunts, reaching up and palming her tits over her thin blazer. Ashley whimpers, hips grinding into his.

He moans right back, feeling his cock begin to swell in his pants. Instinctively, his fingers grip Ashley’s hair, tugging slightly. She gasps into his mouth, and for a horrible, exhilarating second, he thinks back to the afternoon, thinks of him twisting her hair as he fucks her roughly from behind. “Jesus,” he gasps, pulling away. “Ash, we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Why?” she smirks.

_Because I’m a dirty fucking degenerate and you are not helping._

“Because... I mean, we only have,” with great effort he glances down at his watch “twenty minutes before I have to get you home. We don’t have time to...you know. Fool around.”

“Then let’s not fool around.” She rolls her hips into his. “Let’s just screw instead.”

 _Fuck_. And just like that, the decision is made for him. They’re kissing again, deeply, frantically, the pair of them grabbing at each other anyway they can. Ashley’s hips begin to move frantically, searching for friction. He wonders whether she can feel his rapidly hardening cock through her jeans. She must do, if the way she gasps as she ruts against his crotch is any indication.

“Holy hell,” he gasps, grabbing her ass and squeezing. He sends a prayer of thanks to a god he doesn’t believe in that his girlfriend loves wearing skinny tight jeans.

“Chris,” Ashley whines into his mouth. She grasps his shoulders gasps when he grinds his hard on into her. “Oh, Chris.”

“Yeah,” he growls. Having Ashley whining and mewling in his lap is good. Better than good. _Splendid_ , even. But he can’t help it. He can’t help the dark noises in his head that urge him to flip her over and fuck her right into the ground.

“Ashley,” he gasps, shuddering a bit when his girlfriend drags her hands under his sweater and starts to stroke his chest. “We can’t...we can’t be out here, in the open, like this.”

“Oh,” she pulls away, biting her lip, puzzled. “Good point.”

A beat. And then they’re both racing towards Chris’ truck, giggling like hopped-up middle schoolers. He gets into the drivers side, grinning goofily as Ashley slides into the passenger seat. For a split second he thinks the moment has passed, that they’ll collect themselves and do the sensible thing. But then Ashley licks her lips, slowly, deliberately, and he’s lost again.

Ashley’s kissing him, firmly, deeply, reaching across and palming his straining cock through his jeans. Chris yelps, his mind a haze, all he can think about is Ashley, Ashley, _Ashley._

It happens in a blur. He’s not sure if he moved his seat back, or if Ashley crawled over to his side of the truck first. It doesn’t matter. As soon as he’s made room his girlfriend clambers off him and sinks to her knees.

He tries to catch her eye, needing to know that this is real, that’s she’s okay with being on her knees in his dilapidated truck’s front seat. She’s not concerned about that, though. He grunts, leaning back, surprised, as she unbuckles his pants, exposing his rock hard dick to the cool air.

Her breath is on the tip and before he can even think he’s pushing her head down onto him. She moans as she takes his sweaty cock in her mouth, sucking and tonguing at the tip. He grunts, squeezing his eyes shut and pushing her down deeper. She goes with it, her throat muscles twitching, then relaxing, letting Chris slide in deep. The feeling’s intoxicating, her throat so tight and hot around him, and it’s even better when Ashley makes little squeaks, as if she’s struggling to fit him down her throat. It excites him to think she has to work at it, work to please him, and he pushes her down a little further.

Eventually he jerks her mouth away, trying not to moan when he sees a bead of precum dripping down her lips. For a vivid, awful moment, he feels ashamed. His apology dies in his throat when she catches his eye. Her excitement is palpable. He stares at her, shocked, confused, and excited in turn. He can’t quite comprehend it. Ashley on her knees, for him. He tries to strangle a gasp when she leans forward and trails a small pink tongue up and down the length of him.

“Ashley!” His voice sounds strained even to his own ears. “Ash…”

She whimpers, tearing her eyes away from his and taking his cock in her mouth again. He knows he’s a big guy but Ashley seems to enjoy the challenge. Her little lips stretch wide as she engulfs the tip, tongue lapping at the glands. It feels amazing, but…

He wants.

He _needs_.

Chris growls, that dark urge within him roaring back to life. Just like that, Ashley goes still, letting him push her harder on his cock. Chris feels her throat constrict around him but she doesn’t object as he forces her down until her nose is squished hard against his thigh. His heart feels like it might break free from his chest as he keeps her there, the tight, wet, twitching heat from her throat feeling amazing around his cock. She’s only there for a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity has passed when he yanks her backup, letting her suck in a few shaky breaths. Her mouth is gleaming, drool pouring down her chin. It’s dirty, but in the best way. She catches his eye.

And moans.

Fuck. _Fuck._ The decision is made for him, yet again. He forces her back down, watches as she closes her eyes and opens her mouth wide, ready for his cock. She slides back down, breathing through her nose, fighting the urge to gag. He waits until she’s taken him practically to the hilt before beginning to fuck her mouth. He thrusts are a bit clumsy. He can’t fuck her too hard but he doesn’t need to. This feels amazing enough, the tight, tense heat of her throat closing around him like a pulsing vice. She stares at him from her position on the floor, green eyes wide as she takes each shallow thrust.

“Fuck,” the words are out before he can stop them. “You take cock good.”

She moans, closing her eyes, as if letting his words wash over her.

“You like it?” he grunts as the head of his dick nudges her throat. “You like taking my cock?”

She whines, opening her eyes slowly. That’s when he sees it, plain as day. The same feral lust that stalks him lurks within her, too.

“Good.” He gasps, feeling something akin to excitement and relief surge through him. He twists her hair, hard, dragging her up. She gasps, sucking in air. “Then suck it.”

He forces her down again, but not all the way. She takes him eagerly into her mouth. Ashley’s hand flies up and grips the base of his cock and starts to pump him as her mouth sucks the tip hard. She slams her eyes shut again, her tongue and fingers work in tandem. He groans, content to watch her work hard at sucking at his cock, enjoying the wet sound of her saliva coating his skin.

“That’s it,” he moans, a heavy hand tugging at her hair. “Hey. Look at me while you suck, slut.”

She moans, sucking on him harder as she drags her eyes upwards. She starts to work her mouth on him more enthusiastically, mewling and gasping as she swirls her tongue along his glands. She looks amazing, kneeling between his knees, cheeks hollowed out, eyes wide and needy. Chris shudders.  She’s putting a good show. Such a good fucking show. But she can do better. He tugs her off his cock, shivering a bit when she whines and tries to force herself back down.

“You want this? You want his dick?”

She doesn’t answer. They’re silent for a moment, the only sound Ashley’s choked pants. Then, slowly, agonisingly, her eyes darken as she sticks out her tongue.

Something feral in him takes over. She wants it? He’ll give to it to her then. He smirks, loving the illicit thrill of pushing the head of his dick along her mouth and lips. Ashley gasps, shuddering underneath him, staying still and opening her mouth even wider, whimpering as Chris’ smears his cock across her tongue.

 _Jesus_ he thinks. Who is this girl, kneeling and moaning at his feet? It's every fantasy he's had but _more_. He wonders if this is a dream, or if he’s died and this in paradise. He’d settle for either in this very moment. Chris swallows, scrambles to find his voice again.

“If you want this cock,” he rasps, eventually, pulling his dick away. “Then come get it.”

She moans as he takes it away, following him, mouth still open, waiting to be used. He plays with her, waiting until her mouth is almost on him before pulling away. She pouts.

“I want it.” She looks him dead in the eye. “Please.”

_Fuck fuck fuckitly fuck._

“Alright then,” he leers, slapping his dick on her mouth a few times, enjoying the sound of his cock smacking against her skin. “Then take it.”

She cries out, engulfing his dick again like an eager little slut. Like _his_ eager little slut.

“Yeah that’s right. Suck it good.” He pushes her down, keeping her there for a few precious seconds before letting her back up. She whimpers, a sharp, longing kind of  sound as he rubs his dick all over her face. He can scarcely breathe, entranced as he wipes himself over her lips, her chin, watching as his pre cum makes her flushed cheeks almost glow.

“Chris,” she whines, mouthing the side of his dick, almost nuzzling it. “Give it to me, please. I need it, pl-”

The begging pleases him, in some dark, carnal way. But shutting her up pleases him even more. He shoves his cock into her mouth, mid sentence, loving the way she just takes it. That he is the one who dictates the pace. She hollows her cheeks but doesn’t suck hard, lets him push her back down. He’s still for a millisecond, waiting until her throat gets used to the sensation of his cock before his hips pump up, fucking her mouth. Ashley groans, trying to grab at his thigh. He pushes her hand away. He wants to hold her down, wants to _use_ her, ravish her, make her take whatever it is he’s got.

“Good girl,” he breathes. “Good girl. You’re such a good slut. Look at you. On your knees. Taking this cock. Fuck. You’re perfect.”

He lets her up, his cock rock hard. He’s so close. So close.

“You want more?”

Her face is a mess, eyeliner running, her saliva and his cum smeared across her beautiful, cherub face. He’s made such a mess of Ashley. Chris has to focus very, very hard not to cum at just the sight of her.

“I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” she whimpers, voice raw. “I want more.”

“Good. Then _suck it_.”

He shoves her down. She obeys, sucking hard, her cheeks hollowed out, head bobbing between his thighs. He stares, watching as she frantically moves up and down. She’s being so good. Taking his cock so good. He rests his hand on her head, just to let her know it’s there, but doesn’t apply any pressure, pleased to see her working hard. “That’s it. That’s it. Take my fucking cock. Suck it hard. You love being on your knees for me, don’t you? Yeah, you do. On your fucking knees, taking it like a slut. That’s it. Fuck.”

She moans, sucking harder, rocking forward, mouth sliding over him like she can’t get enough.

“Fuck!” he jerks his hips forward, shallowly fucking her mouth. “I’m gonna cum. You’re going to make me cum. Open your mouth and take it all, slut.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, on the cusp. He twists his hand hard into her hair, making her choke on his dick, claiming that mouth and throat as his own.

“Good girl,” he babbles. “Take it. Fuck. God, fuck, take it, here it comes.”

With a cry he cums, spilling his load all down Ashley’s throat. Distantly, he thinks she hears her splutter but can’t quite grasp it, too caught up in the pleasure of her throat pulsing around his cock as he continues to come in thick, heavy spurts, again and again.

Finally, finally, release. He collapses back onto his seat, sated, milked dry. His head is swimming, endorphins surging through him, the high better than any chemical release.

He opens his eyes, blinking, trying to reacquaint himself with his surroundings.

It’s then the guilt and fear hits him him square in the gut. There’s no going back now. His mask has fallen away. Ashley has seen him for what he is: base, cruel, depraved. He tried to protect her from his own nature, but instead he exploited her for everything he could. He swallows thickly, feeling nauseous. How could he do this? To _Ashley_ , of all people. Force her to choke on his cock while calling her filthy, nasty names? He should cherish her. Instead, he degraded her.

He squeezes his eyes shut again, willing the tears to go away. It’s all out in the open now. Ashley will never look at him the same way again. And how could she? She trusted him. And he betrayed her.

“Chris?”

Ashley’s voice is meek, a little raw. When he opens his eyes, he can’t quite meet her gaze. She looks wrecked, hair tousled and sticking up at strange angles, her saliva and his cum smeared across her face. A minute ago it excited him. Now, he feels ashamed.

“Ashley,” he whispers. “Ash, I-”

“Chris,” she clambers onto his lap, kissing him fiercely. Her mouth tastes salty, heavy with the scent of his arousal. He whimpers. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s afraid to touch her; afraid not to. So he stays still as his girlfriend pulls away.

“Chris,” she shakes him. “Chris, I need -”

She grunts. He doesn’t understand. He wants to say something, apologise, get down on his own knees and beg for forgiveness, when-

Ashley squeaks as she clumsily moves off and him squeezes through the small gap between the drivers and passengers seat. Chris blinks, confused. Ashley hates climbing over things. Sam once invited her to go indoor rock climbing and Ashley actually laughed in her face. What’s going on?

Whatever it is, she’s now in the backseat.. Chris does up his fly, stumbling outside. Is she crying? Is she so disgusted she needed to be as far away from him as possible, or is that ruse, and that she needs him?

He pulls the door open and stops. Ashley’s lying on the back seat, legs splayed open, a shy, inviting look on her face, and a heated glint in her eye.

“Chris,” she pleads. “Please.”

He moves on autopilot, knowing instinctively what she wants. Ashley gasps as he rests his thigh between her legs, grinding up desperately.

“Chris,” she moans. “Chris.”

Fuck. He slams his mouth down on hers, kissing her fiercely. She whines into his mouth, grinding against his leg. Her movements are frenzied, urgent. He groans, feeling heat surge down to his spent cock. She’s desperate. So desperate. She needs more than his leg.

He starts to undo her jeans. Ashley whines, pulling away and helping to pull the offending item down her legs. Chris hisses, impatient. He'll rip these off he needs to. Finally they manage to pull Ashley’s jeans halfway down her thighs. It's undignified. Chris hates that he’s excited by that, all over again. But he can’t think about that now, not when Ashley needs him. He steadies himself and shoves Ashley’s underwear aside, gasping at the slickness he finds between her legs.

She’s wetter, wetter than she’s ever been. He struggles to find her clit, her slickness making it hard for him to find his bearings. She gasps loudly when his fingers graze the tip of a bundle of nerves. There it is, finally. At least this is familiar. He strokes her clit for a few moments, enjoying the desperate, keening noises coming from her mouth. They don’t have the luxury of time but he knows just what she needs.

It’s shockingly easy to slide two fingers inside of her. They groan as he eases all the way in, before sliding out, then repeating, fucking her in thick, slow thrusts.

“Chris,” she pleads, grabbing his shoulders. “Oh God, Chris.”

He moves faster, thrusting as far as he can, curving the tips of his fingers. She's so wet and open and easy to fuck. She needs more though. Awkwardly, he moves his thumb around so it’s stroking her clit. He doesn’t have much freedom to move, but it doesn’t matter. The heavy thrusts from his fingers and pressure from his thumb makes her gasp and shudder, her hips surging upwards.

“Chris, oh baby. Yes, fuck.”

“That feel good, Ash? You want it harder?” He whispers, his voice strangely dry.

“Please,” she begs.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans. There’s something almost wild in the way she’s bucking up, fucking herself on his fingers. She’s gasping, whimpering, her cries reverberating around the truck. He groans, still a little shocked she’s letting him do this. That after everything she still wants to moan his name.

“Ash,” he breathes, watching her write on his fingers. “Ash…”

She moans, a high, almost broken sound. He speeds up, fingers pounding into her. Fuck. She looks so good. Her face a mess, hair splayed across his backseat, her hips rising to meet his thrusts. There's something squalid about the way her jeans are hugging her thighs, about how they haven't even bothered to remove her underwear. As if she's his hungry whore, ready to take whatever she's been given.  

Ashley catches his eye just as Chris lets out a deep, guttural grunt and it's what sends her over the edge, too. She cries out, her pussy clenching hard around his fingers.  Her moan is loud, almost primal and her orgasm wracks through her. He slows down, fucking her gently, entranced by the way she throws her head back as pleasure courses through her.

It takes a while for her hips to slow, as she shudders in what could be aftershocks. Finally,  she collapses on the seat, completely spent. He lingers inside of her, not wanting to pull out. She’s so warm and wet and for a split second he wishes they can stay like this, exactly like this, forever.

Eventually, she starts to wiggle, impatient, and he takes his cue to slide out. Usually he’d make a show of sucking on his fingers, but any display now would feel hollow. He can’t do anything besides furtively wiping her slickness away on his jeans.

“Chris,” Ashley says softly, sitting up. She blushes, ducking her head as she awkwardly pulls her jeans back up. “We should-”

Ashley’s timer goes off, the sound ringing around the truck . She scowls.

“Dammit! Chris, we have five minutes before I have to get home!”

“Oh,” he mumbles.

“We have to move!”

“Right,” he says slowly as she extracts herself from underneath him. “Yep. Gotcha.”

She’s right, of course. Her father is intolerant at the best of times, but he’s spent the night playing poker with his old cop buddies and the man is a mean drunk. The thought of her intoxicated, disgruntled father is what sparks Chris to life.

Thankfully, the park really is only a few minutes away from her house. He speeds there as quickly as he can, his heart thudding hard in his chest.

When he pulls up, a safe distance away from prying eyes, he glances over at Ashley apprehensively. She’s cleaned herself off and is now fixing her hair, trying to look like she wasn’t manhandled by her degenerate boyfriend.

“Here,” he takes his sweater off. “Let me.”

She stills and lets him wipe her face off. He doesn’t care that he’ll have to wash his sweater all over again. After what he's done it's the least he could do.  

It doesn't take long before she looks herself again. Her father will never guess, thank god. He’s grateful she’s safe from _one_ of the monsters in her life, at least.

“I need to go,” she whispers, in a low voice, glancing towards her house with obvious dread. “But Chris, I…”

He closes his eyes, waits for the blow, instead she feels her lips graze his cheek.

“I love you, Chris. So much. Come round tomorrow. I think we need to talk about something.”

“I love you too,” he replies miserably, knowing in his heart that something fundamental has shifted between them. A line crossed. Ashley has other pressing concerns though. She dashes out of his truck, trying to look nonchalant as she walks up her driveway.

He swallows, watching her retreating figure disappearing into the night.

“Bye,” he whispers to her. “Bye…”

 

+++

He drives blearily, barely paying attention to the road ahead despite the rain that’s now clattering against his windshield. He runs a stop sign once, almost mounts a curb, but makes good progress. Chris knows this route by heart. He turns up the radio up, full blast, willing Bon Jovi to drown out his thoughts rumbling through his head.

Finally, he’s there. He spots Sam’s Audi and a battered down Nissan that must belong to Matt. He parks a little down the street. The last thing he wants is for his friends to see him. Chris couldn’t stand that. He doesn’t deserve their warmth.

He’s at Josh’s door within minutes. Maybe it’s the rain, or the cold, or his own, broken brain, but he can barely breathe, and he takes a moment to suck in a choked breath.

Chris should go home. It would be easier. It would be safer. But...he can’t be alone with his thoughts right now. The type of thoughts that say: He’s awful. He’s a wretched. He’s cruel. The type of man they warn girls against. He’s knows this to be true, but like all real cowards he can’t shoulder this burden alone.

Even if it means losing Josh, too.

A knock. Then another. Then -

“All right, all right, I’m coming, keep your nipples on.” The door is pulled open. “Chris?”

“Josh. _Josh_.”

“Chris,” two warm hands tug him inside. “Chris? Jesus. You’re soaked, dude. What happened?”

“I messed up, man,” he moans. His tears run down his sodden face. “I messed up so bad. I’m bad. I’m awful. I hurt her. Goddamnit. Man, I’m fucked up.”

“Hurt who?” Josh asks. His eyes sharpen. “Ashley?”

“I didn’t mean to,” he sobs. “I’m so fucked up. I fucked up, man. I fucked up. I fuc-”

“Chris,” Josh interrupts, putting two steadying hands on Chris’ shoulders. “Come on. Sit down.” Chris takes his cue, slumping onto a bean bag. Josh takes a seat on the floor, less than a foot away, looking strangely young in a battered tshirt and his flannel pyjama bottoms.

“What happened? Is Ashley okay?”

“Yeah. I think so. But I…” the words whittle in his throat. “I can’t.”

“You can. You can tell me anything, Chris. I promise I won’t judge you. Now.” He leans forward, serious, concerned. “Start from the beginning. What happened?”

Chris looks into his friend’s eyes.

And tells him everything.

Right from the beginning.

 

+++

Chris isn’t sure how long he’s been speaking, continuously, and for once, uninterrupted. It feels like forever, his voice hoarse and rough when he finally stops.

Josh’s eyes are wider than he’s ever seen them. Chris looks away. Ashamed.

“So there you have it,” Chris smiles miserably. “The whole, fucked-up chronicle. Christopher Hartley: a life debauched.”

“I can’t...I can’t believe it. I am….is flabbergasted a word? Cause that is me, right now.” Josh grins. “I cannot believe you. You’ve been hiding that you’re a kinky asshole this whole time?”

“Josh,” he moans, burying his face in his hands.

“I mean, I like to think I can pick ‘em, but you had me fooled.”

“Josh,” he may start crying again.

“Hey,” Josh says, softly. “It’s okay, man. It’s okay. You’re okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Didn’t do anything...have you even been listening? Did you hear what I just said? What I just did?”

“It sounded like two people had a really good time on a date.”

“What?” Chris gapes. Josh isn’t normal, Chris has known that for a while, but who could hear that sordid tale and not flinch? Josh is lewd to the bone, but not immoral. Not cruel.

“Chris. I want to run something by you. What if I told you I think Ashley enjoyed it?”

“Enjoyed it? But… no.”

“Why not? There’s plenty of kink to go around.”

“Stop it. This is serious.”

“Have you ever spoken to her about what she likes? About what she fantasises about?”

“No,” he feels the conversation is spiralling, spinning off into a direction he can’t control. “Up until now we... we just did, you know. Normal stuff.”

“Oh my god, if Beth was here she’d kill you. _Normal stuff._ Pfffft. Has it ever occurred to you Ashley maybe, just maybe, doesn’t always want to do... _normal stuff._ ”

“But…”

“Did she say no? Did she ever shy away from you? Did she ever do a single thing that implied she wasn’t consenting?”

“Josh, I made her do awful, degrading things.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“People don’t consent to be degraded.”

“They do. When they’re kinky, just like you,” there’s a knowing glint in his eye. “She came pretty quickly, afterwards, right? I mean, you barely had to make an effort.”

“That doesn’t mean anything, Josh,” why does his voice sound weak?

“Okay, well, think about this. Would Ashley have told you she loved you right afterwards if she really thought you violated her? If she did feel...disgusted by you? You think she wouldn’t be wearing your balls as earrings?”

Chris has to take a breath. It’s true. His girlfriend isn’t a shrinking violet. She’s got a sharp tongue and a fierce mind. Chris has always been in awe of it.

“But what...even if she likes it. Isn’t it...weird. Like, not normal. How can you like being spoken to that way? And… I love her. I never want to make her feel bad, or, like-”

“Chris,” Josh’s smile is almost kindly. It’s an odd look for him. “Okay. Some people like vanilla ice cream. Some people chocolate. And some people like weird freaky flavors that nobody has even heard of. And that’s fine. Because there’s room for all of it in this big, fantabulous world. Seriously.”

“But I… this isn’t…. normal. I just want to be normal. I want to be normal for Ash. I want to be the boyfriend who treats Ashley right.”

“And you are treating her right. You can buy her flowers and fuck her face, dude, it’s not either or. And normal...jeez.” Josh looks almost sad. “There are a lot worse things in this world than being kinky, Chris. Especially when your crazy hot girlfriend is, too.”

Chris gapes at Josh, head pounding. Surely Josh can’t be right? He’s always tried to stop these urges, banish them to the dark recesses  of his mind. He doesn’t want to be the guy who gets off on controlling other people’s pleasure. He doesn’t want to get hard while saying cruel, degrading things. He just wants to be a good man, who loves and is loved in return.

Can he still be all that for Ashley?

“Have you ever...thought about doing this stuff before? Like, to other girls?”

“Not really. I mean. I guess… occasionally, I would fantasise about, you know, getting a little rough, but like, I just pushed it away, cause, I mean, I didn’t want to think about it too much. And I never thought about it doing to other girls, or, at least girls I knew,” Chris is babbling but he doesn’t care. His history with girls runs the gamut of one drunken kiss during a game of ‘Never Have I Ever’ and a two week relationship with Beth at the start of Ninth Grade, and he does _not_ want to give Josh the wrong impression when it comes to his littlest sister. “I just mean… Ashley brought all these thoughts out of me.”

“Huh. I guess that’s sort of sweet, in an... _aberrant_ kind of way,” Josh smirks. “Still, I think we need to run over things. For one, you guys need a safe word. And if you’re face fucking her, you need a signal so you know if she’s getting overwhelmed. Once you get that sorted the world is your kinky oyster, bro.”

“What? Safe word?” the term sounds vaguely familiar. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh Chris, Chris, Chris.” Josh grins, slinging his arm around his shoulders as he sits next to him on the beanbag. “My man, you two are going to have so much fun!.”

“We are?”

“Yeah. There’s so much you guys can explore, and hey... I have a feeling you and Ash are going to really quick learners.”

Chris blushes, all sheepish, shoving Josh so hard his friend falls onto the floor. Josh just doubles down, cackling like a newbie on their first high, and it’s definitely not how Chris thought the night would end but he’ll take it anyway.

In the background he hears Josh saying something about whiskey, and yeah, a drink sounds just about perfect. Chris pulls out his phone.

**From Chris:**

**Hey Ash. I’ll be around tomorrow with some breakfast. You’re right, we need to talk. But in a good, non-break-up way, I swear! ;) It’s the weekend so shall we say...11am?**

 

**From Chris:**

**Also. I love you. Like, a crazy amount of love**

 

Chris smiles, putting his phone down and trying to calm the frantic beating of his heart.

He’s not ready to hope just yet, but maybe, just maybe, being not being normal is not so bad.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I love my little kinky idiots.
> 
> Thanks for reading. Feedback in all forms warms the cockles of my black heart. If you review, however, I will send you massive karma points all the way from Australia.


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